Life Moments #23 – Where Do We Go From Here?

The sled for the truck pulls. The tractor pulls it backward into the starting position after each truck’s turn.

The other day, my husband, my children, and I went to the county fair as we do every year. My husband shares the same birthday with our twin sons and every year on or around his birthday, the county fair takes place. One of the attractions that we enjoy at the county fair is the truck pulls.

And every year we have gone to these truck pulls for almost as long as we have been together. We have some wonderful family memories that have taken place at this truck pull. This year was no different.

Only is was different.

We were missing one child, which – like most of the summer – put a damper on it for me. So, as we arrived at the fairgrounds, I suddenly had the urge, like uncontrollable urge, to just go back home. I told my husband exactly that and since the day was already off to a rough start, he was more than willing to agree.

But, I couldn’t go home.

You see, I had told my oldest son that I would come watch him because he thought he was going to participate in the truck pull. And, as most of the time, I wanted to be supportive and cheer him on.

My oldest son, my youngest daughter and myself

With some apprehension, we unloaded the kiddos and trudged our way through the gate. As we walked along, I began to feel my apprehension go into almost a full-blown panic attack.

What the heck was causing such unrest in my soul?

My son being gone and here I am about to see his father not only there, but there to enter the truck pull with two (2) trucks. Mind you, I haven’t seen his father since our son’s funeral, and I haven’t spoken to him since before the funeral when I texted his girlfriend that they are to blame for the death of my son.

My nerves were very much a jumbled mess.

The other day I was talking to my oldest son who is completely broken-hearted right now. He lost his brother. He is angry. He is hurting. And he doesn’t understand why any more than the rest of us.

But, he is there. And he is caught in the middle. Sometimes, I think he feels like he has to choose. I told him when we spoke last and he was so upset that if it came to choosing, if he just felt like he had to choose – like if he didn’t have a choice but to choose, then I want him to choose his dad. Not because his dad is better than me. Not because his dad deserves him more than I do, but because I don’t want to make him choose.

If parents could only understand what their hatefulness and spitefulness does to their children then they wouldn’t engage in such behaviors.

I am angry at their father. I am angry about the kind of person he is and what he has done to our boys. I am angry. But I wish him no harm. I blame him for what happened to our son because I honestly and completely believe that my son did what he did due to the hatefulness he received from his dad. But even though I feel that way, that man is still their father and we still have one son. For that reason alone, I try to forget the angst, the pain, the anger he has caused me and let the rest of it rest.